Of Oceans And Jewels
by Symmetrical
Summary: The HMS Justice's sails fluttered in the sea breeze. Captain Mia, a woman of all things, hung over the railings. Today, she decided, would be the day things changed. First Mate Wright was too busy scrubbing the deck to care. -AU Fic, Possible Spoilers-
1. Veering Right

**So, I'm back :D It's been a while, I'm sorry. I've been trying to write and I've got a one shot I can post. But hey! Multi-chapter fic! AND IT HAS A PLOT. So I'm definetly continuing it. Promise. Crit would be appreciated, 'cause I don't write so much anymore. But hey, here's chapter one (:**

_Disclaimer: Symmetrical claims no ownership over the characters portrayed in this fan fiction. They are the property of Capcom. _

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The HMS Justice's sails fluttered in the sea breeze that churned the waves into battering the side of the old but sturdy wood. Recently oiled, the deck shone in the sun's harsh and unforgiving gaze, causing metal to glitter and sailors to burn. Captain Mia Fey, a woman of all things, hung over the railings, secretly checking out some of the scurrying sailors as they made sure the boat was working fine, allowing the wind into sails to propel the ship forward. Most were barely clothed due to the heat wave drifting through the air, and Captain Fey was not one to let such a marvellous spectating opportunity go. Her hat was perched diagonally on long brown hair, slightly crooked smile and half lidded eyes on a rounded, attractive face. Behind her, First Mate Phoenix Wright steered the ship, trying to avoid the major waves but managing to hit them nonetheless. Every jolt was accompanied by an apology, as roughened hands tightly gripped the wheel. A quick learner, but First Mate Wright could constantly make mistakes, regardless of how fast he learnt from them. Another jerk, and Mia was forced to grip the railing as the whole ship seemed to swerve and sailors were forced starboard. Cursing, the Captain quickly stood up, brushing off the imaginary railing dust, and walking dangerously over to the First Mate, shoving him away and taking over the wheel. You couldn't get good work anywhere nowadays.

Down on the lower deck, stowaway Larry Butz was attempting to flirt with Steward Maggey Byrde, regardless of her attempting to carry on with her work to attempt to stave off the bad luck that seemed to accompany her. How Byrde had been allowed to aid with the preparation of the food was something none of the rest of the crew could fathom, but Chief Cook Gregory Edgeworth never seemed to mind. Second Mate Maya Fey scaled the rigging as if it were simple monkey bars, swinging from loose ropes occasionally, and stopping before the Captain noticed.

It was a strange story, really, how they'd acquired such a... varied crew. After discovering Larry hidden badly in a crate that was meant to be full of supplies, they'd tried to throw him off, but Larry had wailed as to how he'd be hanged if they just chucked him overboard. Funny how he'd missed the whole having-to-swim-back-to-shore part. Apparently, whatever Larry had done, it hadn't been his fault – this time. Maggey had simply wandered aboard without really paying attention, then proceeded to fall asleep in one of the cabins. Captain Fey had despaired, before quickly putting the new arrivals to work.

As Chief Steward Dick Gumshoe chased after Larry under the pretence of upholding the law, and denying that it had anything to do with the stowaway's attempt to woo Maggey, Captain Fey had to wonder what on earth had possessed her to assemble such a crew. Treasurer Marvin Grossberg stayed in his cabin, keeping an eye on all accounts and updating them where necessary, occasionally coming onto the deck in order to talk to the Captain or to simply catch some sun. Meanwhile, Steward Matt Engarde kept his head down, diligently scrubbing the already sparkling deck with a dirty sponge, a small smirk adorning his tanned face.

The ship swerved starboard.


	2. Imperfections

**So, it's an early post, and the next one will be posted within the next week, and that will be the updating timetable I will try and keep to. However, I wanted to post this in order to answer some of the questions I got in the reviews. Ah, sorry guys XD**

_Disclaimer: Symmetrical claims no ownership._

Captain Manfred von Karma idly thought that his crew wasn't perfect... no, there was something amiss. And Captain von Karma loathed imperfections. As he surveyed the perfectly clean deck below, hands clasping the wheel, he wondered exactly what part of his usually perfect ship was different today. His blue jacket was as straight as ever, the gold epaulettes and buttons glimmering in the sun. There wasn't a hair out of place, his white ribbon preventing stray strands from blocking his view even slightly. No, it couldn't be the Captain that was throwing the ship off balance. First Mate Damon Gant certainly seemed as jovial as ever, although if he was quieter then there would be no problems raised with the Captain. Gant's orange bandana tied at an angle over white hair was an eyesore, but one the crew had come to accept. Besides, it made him an easier target if the pirate ship, the VKS Murder, was under attack. No, his monocle wasn't broken either. Everyone had had to question that at first, First Mate Gant as completely normal.

His gaze fell on Third Mate Lana Skye as she supervised the scrubbing of the deck (just in case some sea dirt had washed aboard), how her back was perfectly straight and her clothes without rumples. Skye's soft, chocolate hair swayed in the breeze, the red ribbon tied at the end of the long ponytail matching with her maroon jacket, no sign of a smile or enjoyment on her face. There was no hope in those eyes. The occasional calls that reached the Captain's ears of "Work harder" or "You're not working fast enough" certainly seemed to indicate that perfection was attainable. The metaphorical ties keeping Lana Skye on board the ship were intact, perfect as ever.

Navigator Dahlia Hawthorne was perched on one of the stairs leading down to the main deck, a map in hand. Her sickly sweet demeanour and sun-lightened clothes only served to enhance her beauty, red hair moving perfectly as if it was somehow planned. She refused to wear any sort of hat, instead preferring to plait or braid her hair accordingly. Her smile, ever in place, graced her features as she pored over the compass, trying to pinpoint where to head to next, or who to attack. Captain von Karma had learnt not to trust that smile, as it could hide any and every thought of hate or hurt that Dahlia Hawthorne imagined. Her subservient posture was not reflected in her behaviour, but the Captain had long since realised that she was not one to bow easily.

The Chief Cook, Morgan Fey, and the Treasurer, Redd White, were out of the way, usually hidden in cabins and the kitchen, which did not bother the Captain in the slightest. White was unsightly, and Fey simply attempted to take over the ship gradually, with orders and her manner of towering over people. No, if they were out of the way, the ship was as perfect as ever.

Chief Steward Franziska von Karma was also hidden, a rarity but nonetheless ignored. The faint noise of a whip and cries of pain signalled that she was continuing with her job, keeping the ship as clean as ever whilst satisfying her sadistic urges. The Captain was proud to have her as a daughter, even if she could occasionally be defiant.

As the Captain gazed across the deck, he spotted Second Mate Miles Edgeworth, holding onto the edge of the boat and watching the waves crash into the side. His strangely pink clothes were slowly becoming damp, but the smile on Edgeworth's face suggested he could even be revelling in the water. Neglecting his duties for simply watching the waves? This would not do, not in the Captain's estimations. The Second Mate was throwing his perfect ship off balance.

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	3. Hats And Legs

**Hey, so, back again ^^" Thanks for the reviews so much (: I really appreciate them. About Godot/Diego, most of the characters in this story are going to be from the PW:AA and JFA universe (Dahlia being the exception considering she was evil AND STILL ALIVE at the time of PW:AA and JFA.), therefore Godot is set to appear a lot later on. Also, Gregory is alive because I like him. And there's a reason Lana is on the VKS Murder. Hopefully all will be written soon :D Thanks for reading!**

**THIS IS AN AU FICTION.**

_Disclaimer: Symmetrical claims no ownership._

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As the ship ploughed through the multitude of waves that were assaulting the sides, Captain Mia Fey's hat was blown from her head, leading to First Mate Wright and Second Mate Fey chasing after it as though it was some jewel-encrusted treasure. Mia simply laughed, continuing to steer the ship. The HMS Justice was set to rendezvous with the Lady Berry, a ship with an even stranger crew than the one Mia Fey commanded. According to reports, the First Mate had big pink hair, the Second Mate dressed like a clown, the Third Mate had two peg legs and the Chief Cook couldn't cook. Furthermore, the Treasurer had a split personality that manifested itself through a wooden puppet reminiscent of the Third Mate's old peg leg. Apparently, only the Captain and the Navigator were remotely normal. Regardless, the ship needed repairs and supplies after crashing onto a remote island north-west of the HMS Justice's current location. A peg leg had got stuck under the steering wheel, rendering Captain Russell Berry unable to manoeuvre.

"Noo! Don't let the hat fall in the sea!"

"Maya! You're making it harder to grab!"

"Don't worry; I've got it Mr. Wright!"

"MAGGEY YOU ALMOST MADE IT FALL OFF THE SHIP!"

The chase to capture the hat was ongoing, and no one knew who the victor would be.

"If you hadn't lost your peg leg then this never would have happ-"  
"If you hadn't been trying to steal my leg in the first pla-!"  
"Max. Acro. If you stop arguing we might stand a chance of fixing the ship before the help arrives, saving them some trouble. Don't you agree?"

Gloved hands crossed over clothed arms, pink hair shifting as Max's head turned away in a small defiance. Of course he would adhere to Captain Berry's wishes. Acro was already hobbling to aid Navigator Bat with the repairs. Chief Cook Regina was already scouting the island for any supplies she could find, followed by her ever loyal ginger cat, Regent. No one dared to mention the occasional ginger hairs that would appear in their food, fearing Regina's reaction. Nobody wanted to ever upset her.

Treasurer Benjamin Woodman was attempting to light a fire to signal the HMS Justice (not helped by the First Mate's "suggestions" to use Trilo, Woodman's puppet, in the fire), but the twigs refused to ignite, rendering the Treasurer's attempts futile. At this rate, they were never going to be rescued.

Second Mate Lawrence "Call me Moe" Curls seemed content to sit by the sea, attempting to come up with more "jokes" involving their current predicament, which would only be appreciated by Regina, and politely acknowledged by the Captain.

A crackle, a spark, a "Finally!", and the fire was started, Ben quickly dropping the now alight twig onto a pile of branches, making sure to keep Trilo well away from the flames, and well away from Max. The scarlet and tourmaline flames leapt from branch to branch, snapping and destroying but also a source of hope. Smoke trickled steadily into the sky, curling and unfurling.

"If you added Trilo to the fire it would be big-"  
"Max!"

Like a backwards funnel the smoke rose and grew, stark against the blue sky. An orange cat coiling around Max's legs was the sign that Regina had returned, an armful of poisonous looking berries in her arms. Her grin was proof that she hadn't realised the fruits of her labour were probably not edible.

"Guys~ I found us some food!" Her curls jumped as she bounced on the spot, bounding over to the Captain and Max and offering some of the fruit. Secretly, they both hoped the ship would hurry up and arrive before they had to taste any of the dreaded berries.

There it was! The signal!

"Dude! Fire!" Matt pointed with the broom he'd been nonchalantly leaning on, his eye patch and the fringe covering it leading people to wonder how he could even see. Still he evidently could, the broom end following the smoke until the ship suddenly moved and Matt stumbled into the railings. Gumshoe barely moved an inch as the wobbling Matt went past.

"Hey, pal, that's a pretty small fire."

"Small like your-?"  
"Quiet, Larry."

Out of nowhere, a sponge appeared and collided with Larry's head.

The island greeting was one of the most bizarre Captain Mia Fey thought she would ever experience. First Mate Maximillion and Third Mate Acro were arguing, Max wielding a strange, wooden weapon... a peg leg. That explained why Acro was leaning on Second Mate Lawren- Moe. Captain Berry was... he probably shouldn't eat those. And there was a small blonde girl, presumably the Chief Cook, cheering him on. The Navigator seemed to be keeping a safe distance – Mia couldn't blame him. The ship pulled onto the shore, Chief Steward Gumshoe and First Mate Wright throwing the anchor overboard to keep the ship from floating away. Or else they'd all be stranded.

"Captain Fey!" The berries were instantly dropped on the sand, the strangely spritely Captain Berry quickly walking over to where Mia stood, in all probability in an attempt to get away from the fruit as soon as possible. "So good to see you! We thought we'd be stranded for quite the while."

"Thankfully we were quite close. What's the problem?"

It was a minor repair job, some damage to the hull, but Captain Berry had feared more could have happened, and his crew wasn't pulling together enough to find out otherwise. By the time Gumshoe finished nailing in the last bolt, Max had lost his bandana to Regent, Moe had been banished to far away for making "another wretched, unfunny joke" (although Second Mate Maya had found them amusing), and Larry's attempts to flirt with Regina had culminated in him being fed some of her treasured fruit. Chief Cook Gregory had attempted to console the Captain of the runaway, raucous crew, but to no avail.

Captain Mia Fey rolled her eyes as they were waved off by the crew of the Lady Berry. The HMS Justice's sails fluttered in the breeze as the ship cruised over the rolling waves. Hopefully next time someone else would be closer.


	4. Onshore Regrets

**Hey :D It's out a day early, woo. Enjoy :D**

_Disclaimer: Symmetrical owns nothing portrayed in this work of fiction except the story itself._

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The ship rocked gently as waves splashed the banister where Lana Skye's arms rested. Glazed eyes looked out to sea as the Third Mate lost herself in thought, swaying slowly with the ship. Her mind was wandering back, to when her parents had died, their ship shot down by pirates searching for treasure. Remembering when it had been her and Ema, her younger sister who she'd now left behind on land, and how First Mate Gant had taken them in. They'd been dependant on him, and now Lana felt bound to help him no matter what. She'd lied to Ema, told her this trip was going to be honourable...

"_Hey, sis! Let me come with you. I could analyse the ship's composition and therefore inform you of what type of sea to not sail into and-" Ema's big brown eyes watched Lana with excitement, her bag of assorted potions and other items by her side. Lana found it hard to turn away. _

"_This trip's dangerous. You wouldn't be allowed on board, and I refuse to put you in danger." Pursed lips and tense shoulders, but Lana couldn't walk away. She could only hope her back showed that the conversation was over. The lights in the port illuminated the dark, swinging back and forth, like the glittering New York Christmas lights. Beautiful, really, in its own magnificent way. Lana had to head towards those lights, and away from her younger sister. She couldn't do it._

"_But Lana, without me, you won't be able to analyse the deck, and therefore decide where you shouldn't tread too much for risk of falling through-" _

"_I'm sure the ship's perfectly stable-"  
"You can't just leave me behind, Lana! We're sisters, and we stick together."_

"_You can't follow me forever, Ema."  
"What have I done wrong to make you leave me behind-"  
"You've done nothing wrong-!"  
"Then take me with you!"_

_An argument was brewing, but Lana didn't want that to happen. Neither of them would get what they wanted, and each would remember broken promises and echoing words.  
"You're not coming Ema, and that's final. I've sorted somewhere for you to stay. I won't be gone for too long." Before Ema could reply, Lana had disappeared into the lights, shadows following her every step._

_Lana didn't sleep that night._

For once on this trip, Lana was shirking her responsibilities as Third Mate – and she didn't care. It was hard to not lose herself in the rolling sea, and allow salty tears to mingle with the ocean. Her troubled face betrayed what the stiffness of her back and her determined posture never could.

Second Mate Edgeworth couldn't keep his gaze from wandering occasionally to the Third Mate, the way her chestnut eyes never strayed from the breaking waves and foam they produced. She seemed alone, isolated and trapped within her own worries. Miles glanced at the cloth he was currently clutching, before allowing it to fall from his lithe fingers. Hesitantly, he walked over to Lana, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"... are you alright, L- Third Mate Skye?" There was a melodious chuckle, and a slight turn of Lana's head.

"... no need to be so formal, Second Mate Miley."

"I've told you not to call me that, Third Mate Skye! At least have the decency to call me Miles!" Instantly, Miles wished he had the cloth in his hand to assault the Third Mate with. Only Franziska and Lana dared to call him that. And there wasn't much he could say against Franziska's whip. An attempt at a glare was duly ignored. Miles crossed his arms in annoyance, not truly holding any grudge against the Third Mate. There was a friendship there, a bond holding them together. It was rare to find such a thing in a place like this. Miles treasured it more than he truly realised.

Lana turned her head more, to properly face the Second Mate. Brown eyes met silver, a soft smile creasing the edges.

"... I'm fine, Miles. I simply wanted to watch the waves a while. They're rather soothing." Miles's arms joined Lana's on the banister, the waves lapping at the side of the boat but only just reaching the two. This tranquil and calm environment seemed in a different world entirely to the usual monotonous regimes and regulations of the ship. The turquoise oceans and the azure sky were picturesque, idyllic for those who live a life on the sea. The light and almost transparent clouds that floated across the sky scarcely covered the sun, allowing the light to shine down and illuminate the world. Miles wished there were more moments like this.

"Do you... have a family, waiting for you?" Lana's tentative question, soon lost with the wind, was only meant to make conversation. It took Miles by surprise, his head turning away from hers slightly. Thoughts of a mother who cared so much for others and so little for herself, and how she'd refused to give in until the very end. Thoughts of how she'd never told him she'd been suffering, that every time she was "out" she was visiting a different doctor, another person who might have the right cure. How every cure had failed behind Miles's back, medicines and glorified water, too many tablets to count. Thoughts of how he'd not been able to cope with the news, blamed his father for bringing disease home from his work in the port, whilst Gregory took the criticism and the blame and tried to calm Miles down, and how Miles had run, when Gregory was asleep, run away, ended up on a ship, this ship, and had Manfred take him in. Thoughts of how he'd had no regrets, felt an almost self-satisfaction that he'd left his father behind, and run to start a life on his own, independent. He'd looked up to Captain von Karma, in awe of how perfectly he commanded the ship and those on it. He'd wondered how long it could take for him to be able to command his own ship, to steer against the winds without anything to hold him back. He hadn't realised that the ship would take him away. He hadn't realised he'd be leaving everything behind.

"... no... there's no one waiting..."

"... I'm sorry..."

"... it's not your fault... let's... continue our work, before Captain von Karma notices our absence." Before Lana could say anything else, Miles had turned away from her, pushing off the banister.

Miles walked away.


	5. Haunting

**This chapter caused me so much trouble. I've been thinking about it since the start of writing this story, but when it got down to it, my god it was tough. I hope you enjoy.**

_Disclaimer: Symmetrical owns nothing._

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Captain Mia Fey clasped the Captain's hat to her chest in a stance of memorial. The frail mist curled around her like a wizened cat, clinging to every fibre that covered her body. Regardless of the upbeat temperament of their crew, the HMS Justice had recently lost a member under suspicious circumstances. Navigator Juan Corrida had gone missing, presumed dead, only three weeks ago. Anything could happen on the seas at night, especially on such rough waters, but it didn't change the shock one received upon waking to a crew with one less member. They'd searched the entire ship, sailing in a circle to try and retrieve a body, anything. Nothing had appeared, not even a faint trace of Juan Corrida remained. Suspicions had been quick.

Matt Engarde had been blamed, his rivalry with the Navigator well known. Many said he wanted the job himself, to be able to claim the authority for his own. Some of the deckhands had gone so far as to attempt to make Matt walk the plank – attempts that were duly quashed by the Captain and First Mate arriving on the scene (not that Matt ever had any thoughts of adhering to their wishes). Arguments had been slowly escalating between Matt and Juan, animosity ever present like a fly that refuses to budge from its victim's surroundings. Duels had even started, weapons drawn, before Chief Steward Gumshoe rushed onto the scene to pull the two away from each other – a job no one envied. The mahogany deck had seen many fights, but had no mouth to gossip. No witnesses had been present during Juan's disappearance, and thus the Captain accused no one, reprimanding those that did by saying they should trust their fellow ship mates. Matt always had to hide a smug grin at these points, carefully keeping his face blank, because if the deck had no mouth, then nobody would become any wiser. And that was entirely the best scenario.

_It had been raining, although nothing threatening, the deck slippery and ropes burning aching, cold hands. Navigator Juan Corrida clutched the map under shelter, huddled next to the diminutive flame that illuminated the area. Careful not to drip on the map, Juan checked the compass, as the waves reacted energetically to the light drizzle. They thumped on the ship, seemingly desperate to enter, as Juan made sure they were still on course. Even a small storm like this could throw them into treacherous waters. Fingers shook with the effort of moving, dampened clothes clinging to tanned skin. The flame flickered threateningly. Shadows advanced into the space. Flickered again, although Juan paid it little attention. It was to be expected in these conditions. Extinguished, and the area was plunged into darkness as Juan groped for the matches. A creak, the door moving slowly, but who would want to talk to the Navigator at such a time? The Captain was asleep. Juan's gun was quickly drawn, held towards the door._

_**Too late. Far too late.**_

_A rope – was it rope? Juan couldn't tell in the blackness that was engulfing him – slipped around his neck, tightening rapidly._

_**Breathe, quickly. Fight back.**_

_The gun knocked from his grasp – a gunshot would alert people to the scuffle, draw them closer, that couldn't happen – Juan clenched his fist, aiming a punch into the shadows. The rope tightened in response, stealing air from Juan's lungs so easily – too easily._

_**Fight back.**_

_Fingers slid over the rope – yes, it was a rope, he could feel it, rough under his fingertips – trying to find purchase and tug. Before he could react, Juan was pushed against the wall, his head slamming into a random spot, forcing any remaining air from Juan's lungs._

_**Fight back.**_

_A low chuckle filled the room, penetrating Juan's foggy mind as the rain grew steadily harder outside. Matt found that he couldn't tighten the rope anymore without attempting to cut Juan's head off – certainly something he'd love to have tried, but quite conspicuous in comparison to strangulation. Quiet, except for Juan's pathetic attempts at breathing. Matt almost laughed._

_Juan couldn't keep himself upright, strength draining as he slumped against the wall, forehead meeting the cool wood and eyes scarcely open. Closing, and through the lack of oxygen Juan thought that, fuck, he was actually going to die here, now, at the hands of Matt fucking Engarde. The ship shook, rattling with the effort of ploughing through the waves, and Juan's head span, everything becoming faded, the edges of his vision curling in like old book edges._

_**Fight back.**_

_He'd tried, but right now Juan Corrida never wanted to move again, to just sleep and never wake up, the situation affecting his every thought. His hands clutched desperately at the rope that separated him from oxygen, sweet oxygen, freedom, the only thing holding him back from turning and beating Matt into a bloody mess. Light filtered into the room from the outside, and Matt got a chance to see Juan as the last gasp left his mouth and his head fell forward. Beautiful, really, that no matter how brilliant the human body was, it could be killed so easily. The rope was loosened, allowing Juan's body to fall. Idiot, Matt thought idly, you got my clothes wet._

_It had been potluck, the way it had turned out. Matt hadn't expected the waves to aid him in the way they did, carrying the body away so quickly and easily. Did the ocean hate Juan as much as Matt did? _

_And no one witnessed anything, blinded by the night sky._

A soft chuckle, Matt's broom barely touching the deck. He closed his eyes, lost in memories steeped with revenge and an incandescent splendour that Matt couldn't place.

Mia slowly replaced the hat on her head, adjusting it to a jaunty angle that matched her trademark grin. The Captain must keep a smile on her face at all times, or else the morale of the ship would drop. After all, if the Captain doesn't smile, why should the crew?


	6. Soft Spoken

The sky was clouding over, soft, pure clouds morphing steadily into grey and gnarly vapours that stretched across the area and poisoned the bright, azure atmosphere. Sunspots trickled through the clouds, gently reaching out, to be extinguished with a lack of glory. Dahlia Hawthorne revelled this entrapment of the sun, so similar to how she would one day have all her enemies trapped and in the palm of her hand. Yes, soon Dahlia would rule the seas, without this ridiculous excuse for a villainous crew at her side. There were others out there, stronger allies that lacked remorse and emotions, and she would make them follow her. And she would be captain, never having to follow anyone. Her auburn hair fluttered rapidly in the growing wind, hiding her usually pretty face – no, twisted by warped desire could make a face lose its beauty. To her, the image was stunning, to be in charge of a vessel of her own. They could command the seas – _would_ command the seas. Because Dahlia knew how to battle, and how to destroy; she valued hurt over mercy, unlike the weak Second and Third Mates. She should be respected over them, with a higher rank. The map trembled in a shaking grasp, smirk piercing the clouds. Its edges strained, but Dahlia wouldn't destroy the map. No, she had a bigger target.

Lithe limbs climbed the mast, map stuffed securely in Dahlia's back pocket, bronze telescope held in delicate fingers. Even the most evil of monsters can hide in the siren's body. Reaching the top, free hand gripping the wooden pole to allow Dahlia to lean out and observe the seas. The waves were steadily growing, a sure sign that the ship was to suffer, but they'd only invested in the best builders for this ship. Dahlia was sure it was something to do with the Captain's perfection issue. Nonetheless, when the VKS Murder sailed smoothly over the waves, everyone appreciated the hardened ship.

Lights would flicker in the distance, beacons to beckon ships closer – once there it would be too late for any ship to know if they were on friendly docks or not. The VKS Murder would only rest at ports that the Captain had already approved, stocking enough so that they would easily reach them, even after withstanding the numerous battles (and victories) that they would undertake. Putting away the telescope safely, Dahlia pulled out the old brass compass, inspecting it carefully. There was a ship on the horizon, one she was determined to pinpoint. The sun was illuminating countless days, sitting there tauntingly, but she was resolved to reach it, and each day they stretched ever closer to that sun's smug smile. This ship was hers. They didn't stand a chance.

Dahlia jumped down from the mast, taking confident strides towards Captain von Karma, her back straight and smirk firmly in place.

"Captain, I've ascertained the ship's co-ordinates."

"Are they perfect?"

"Yes, Captain."

"And the route?" A question usually meaning "Is it the fastest route to the destination?"

"Yes, Captain." And once again, that required response, and Dahlia would never let her facade slip. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the Second Mate oversee the stewards, his face unusually hard. Pity, if he was becoming what she wanted from everyone then it'd make it so much harder to throw them all overboard, or even walk the plank. They could certainly be useful assets, after all.

Maybe she could slip, just a little.

"We take no prisoners, correct?" A devious smile. Dahlia knew what she wanted.

"If we were to take prisoners, then it would be an imperfect victory. Mercy is for the weak. Now return to chartering our course."

"Yes, Captain." The sun was hidden behind the obsidian clouds, few droplets leaking out. Those more sentimental would liken it to tears. Dahlia just saw it as a nuisance, particularly to her vision, as she returned to her post on the mast and called down instructions.

Ah yes, no prisoners.

Dahlia couldn't wait to board the HMS Justice.


	7. Raging Onward

I AM SO SORRY ABOUT HOW BAD I AM AT UPDATING DJKHFDSKJHFDS Here, have two chapters in two days. I'M GETTING BACK INTO THIS I SWEAR.

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Larry Butz clung to the ship's railings, every part of him screaming for him to get off the ship or maybe go back in time and to never hide in that crate in the first place. Rolling unsteadily over the waves, the HMS Justice and its crew clung to the hope that soon this storm would be over, or that a port would just appear from the distance, emerging from the fog and –

"We've sprung a leak, Captain! Down in the lower decks, I can stem the flow with a few barrels and blockade the area."

"Yes, please, get on that Gumshoe. Wright, you help him."  
"E-eh?"  
"No arguments!"

- there was no hope of that happening, was there. No, instead the ship had to survive this horrible ordeal and "WHY AM I HEEEEEEEEEEEEERE?"

Not even a hint of the sun remained in the sky, light clinging to the belly of the clouds in an effort to exist. Second Mate Maya's lamp swung in her hand dangerously as she stumbled across the ship, currently taking the position of Navigator, trying desperately to hold the map, compass, telescope, and lamp in her only two hands. Anything on the deck now ran the risk of being thrown overboard as the Captain struggled to command the ship's swerving. It was as if the waves were steering now, taking control of everything. Larry stumbled across the deck to the other side, almost colliding with a faltering Maggey carrying a barrel (presumably she'd taken it upon herself to help Gumshoe lessen the leak). Gregory had holed himself up in the kitchen, attempting to continue preparing dinner for the crew, even through the storm, and Larry was almost certain he could hear the clanging of the pans even as he stood next to the waves. Grossberg had been sent to help (Larry couldn't help but wonder if he'd volunteered just so he could eat more) and Matt Engarde was nowhere to be found.

"You! Stowaway!"

"M-meeee?" It was quite scary, really, how Captain Fey could be heard even over the raucous of the storm and the kitchen. Testament, really, to why she should be Captain, even though she'd had to fight for the position. Larry carefully edged closer, hesitant to both fall off the ship and to hear the Captain's request.

"I need someone to check for more leaks in the lower quarters, what with Gumshoe and Wright tied up stopping them from being flooded already. Since you need to earn your keep here," a slight glare, and Larry was terrified, "and since you snuck aboard in the first place, I think it's in your best interest to carry out this duty, no? Or else you might just disappear one night..." An empty threat, but Larry didn't need to know that. After all, he was already scuttling off to make sure the ship was still in an alright condition. Truth be told, Mia just wanted him gone from wobbling all over the deck; he was nerve-wracking to watch, and she had a ship to steer. Fingers glided over the wheel as the ship moved through the waves, Mia making the movement as smooth as possible. There was no way to tell if they were even going to right way anymore.

Matt Engarde hid below deck, waiting in the room next to where Gumshoe and Phoenix worked diligently to ensure the ship wouldn't sink. Honestly, what use was there in trying to save this wreck of a ship? They'd all be dead soon anyway, only prolonging the inevitable. What a useless bunch. Matt felt the ship rock and shifted his position, sprawled on the bed to be more secure. He had no desire to help them.

The door clanged open, a flash of an orange bandana and-

"Heeeey! Is there a leak in here?"

Matt carefully arched an eyebrow, observing Larry with disdain, before forcing himself to sit up and fixing a trademark smile on his face. Two thumbs up, and "Hey dude! No, uh... not that I know of. I think I'd like, notice if there was water coming in here, y'know? But I can check if you want..."

"Noo, that's ok, I believe you. If you see anything, let me know, ok?" He was gone. The door slammed shut, and Matt lay back down, watching the ceiling carefully. Idiots.

Larry slammed through every room, almost running into Maggey again, carrying an even larger barrel this time.

"Sorry Larry! I can barely see over thiiii-" Larry watched her wobble off, resuming his search for leaks. So far, so good.

Maggey practically fell into Gumshoe as she hurtled through the doorway, barrel dropping to the floor and rolling further inside. He caught her, eyes meeting-

"Gumshoe it's not working! You can't just keep stuffing flannels in the leak until it stops! IT'S NOT GOING TO STOP WE'RE IN THE SEA!"

The moment was broken, a strangled yell from further down the ship announcing the presence of another leak, and Gumshoe pulled away, scratching his head.

"Sorry about that, pal. Just try to stay up right, alright?"

Maggey saluted, her grin ever present. "Yes sir! I'll go see what else I can get to stop the leak!" Gumshoe was left back alone with Phoenix, the growing leak a cause for concern, and they weren't anywhere near a port.

Larry had stuffed his bandana into where water was leaking out in the room two doors down from Matt, before running upstairs to alert the Captain. His poor bandana...

The clouds were breaking, Mia observed, Maya rushing back and forth between the Captain and the map to direct the ship. With the announcement of another leak, and possibly more hidden below, they needed to reach a port, and fast. Maya had been directing Mia to swerve portside, that the closest was still too far but that they could try anyway. Besides, there was a ship on the horizon. They could help.

Captain Mia Fey held her hat tightly and watched as the ship approach – too quick, too familiar. Mia knew that ship, knew that crew, the flag piercing through the horizon. Roughened hands commanded the wheel, controlling it perfectly. Crew members surrounded the Captain, waiting, waiting, weapons drawn. This was no miracle saviour. Dahlia stood at the front of the ship, gripping the banister and smirking, like a twisted figurehead watching over the ship. The VKS Murder sliced through the waves as effortlessly as if the sun was smiling down upon them and the wind blowing their way. Mia tensed with the anticipation of battle.

The smirk widened. Soon, Dahlia would have a ship to command.


	8. Lumière

Another chapter, on a roll. Writing as much as I can (:

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This was it. This was her time. Time to repay everything Mia Fey had done to her, taking the ship she should have rightfully controlled. It meant nothing that she was "not as worthy", it meant nothing to her. The HMS Justice was hers, hers, hers to control, hers to command, hers to take the helm of and hers to steer. It would have been the Black Dahlia and would have sailed under such different colours. She would never control a ship under Her Majesty's Service. No, it would have been all hers, her ship, and Dahlia Hawthorne would have been Captain. Oh, how she hated her mother.

"Let's go, Captain..."

And as the ships drew ever closer, Miles was torn. Because it wasn't just any ship ahead, it was the HMS Justice, the most honourable ship to navigate the waves, under their yellow-circled blue flag. The ship that Gregory Edgeworth sailed on. The cannons were readied, Redd being forced out of the treasury in order to help with the battle, manning the cannons down below, joined by Damon Gant. His arm around Franziska's shoulders, he held her against the banister, steadying them both as the ship rocked violently with the sharp manoeuvre the Captain made in order to aim the cannons. A look passed between him and Lana, one that said "This is it", all or nothing, for there may be nothing left except the smouldering ruins. The Captain wouldn't enjoy a pyrrhic victory.

A moment of madness. Surge. Fire.

The cannons expelled their load, firing at the HMS Justice with the intent of perfection – one shot and they're sunk. Gant commanded the crew to reload, lights flashing as matches were lit. Franziska von Karma stood next to the wheel, surveying the damage inflicted on hardened wood. Having been advised that a whip wasn't a "suitable" weapon for battle, she'd begrudgingly taken a rapier, held loosely in her left hand whilst fingers clutched the whip in her right. Captain von Karma hadn't even tried to fully part them. Franziska held her hat, perched carefully with smooth hands. Manfred commanded a ship where there was no room for error, where pirates became soldiers like a well-oiled machine, following a code, following order.

The HMS Justice swayed violently, water spilling through the cracks as cannonballs led the invasion, threatening to break, aiming to destroy. Weapons were drawn (even Larry had been forced into wielding some rusty looking sword Second Mate Maya had found on short notice), First Mate Phoenix on deck and stood next to his Captain. Chief Steward Gumshoe ordered the crew in the firing of the cannons, but the flooding was hindering ignition. Gunpowder sputtered, sparked – lit. The cannons fired, spewing residue upon the waves, the ship rolling with the force. The sun struggled to fight off the clouds. The ships were drawing closer.

Chief Cook Gregory had emerged from the kitchen struggling under the weight of many pans, makeshift helmets for a usually peaceful crew. Phoenix drew the handle back, hair crushed under both the pan and the bandana. Mia close to keep her hat, in an attempt to look superior and strong. The HMS Justice sailed towards that beautiful horizon known as Victory, and she drew them closer. Feet spread on the deck to keep her steady, the Captain was ready to lead the charge.

The ships ground together. Now or never. All or nothing.

Men and women sprang from their positions, eyes wide and alert. Mia's sword clanged against Dahlia's, bronze handle shaking in her grip. Dahlia's smirk was as wide as if the knife had cut her face, splitting and morphing someone so dainty into someone so evil. Franziska swung onto the deck of the HMS Justice, aiming a strike at Maya's neck, locked quickly in battle. The whip struck Maya's side as she held Franziska back – a perfect diversion.

Morgan swung with ease, slicing through the air and skin as if they were one and the same. Maggey parried the blow, holding the sword in inexperienced hands. Fingers trembled, concentration broke, and Morgan swung again. Maggey surged forward, swords ripping through the air. Behind them, Dick Gumshoe grappled with Redd White, swords forgotten in their hands as both tried to throw the other overboard.

The deck creaked.

Larry swung his sword in haphazard arcs, threatening both friend and foe in his erratic battle style. Lana caught his blade with hers, spinning him off target. Letting out a yell, Larry backed away, not realising that he could actually be drawn into battle. A disorganized swing, Larry being too kind and enamoured with any woman to try and harm them, and Lana held the advantage. A slash to his stomach. Stumble. Lana's face hardened as she watched crimson stain into white, withdrawing her blade. She moved forward.

The light ricocheted off of Morgan's sword, a woman more used to brandishing knives than weapons. Every swing was met by Maggey, every moment stretching on as feet slid across the deck. One slip. No resistance. Falling. The sword in her shoulder. In her arm. Maggey pulled back, sword forgotten as she tried to stem the blood flow. Morgan's knees shook, legs taking her backwards. Scarlet. Everywhere. On your hands. The blood spilled quickly, crippling the chef. Maggey drew a hand across her mouth, panting softly. She was not a murderer.

Phoenix had sprinted across the deck, almost running headlong into Captain Manfred von Karma, sword poised to strike. Quick reflexes (from avoiding a swift smack to the head from Captain Fey) allowed Phoenix to get back, raise his own sword, and charge into the fray. Blades met, ringing over the background noise, Captain and First Mate facing each other.

"Out of my way, this is taking far too long."

Phoenix swung at Manfred's back, evaded easily. The Captain had far more experience than him, but Phoenix had determination, once again attacking.

Blood trickled from a cut over Mia's eye, more dripping from a wound over Dahlia's breast, swords finding purchase in the other's body. The fight was drawing them closer, Dahlia's eyes narrowed in rage. A parry, a sidestep, Mia causing a wound along Dahlia's arm. They were light on their feet, both fighting for control of the ship. They danced, Dahlia slashing gracefully whilst Mia dodged, her hat falling off her head, caught by the wind and flying into the sea.

They drew closer.

The sword at Mia's throat. She moved back, aiming for a counter strike at Dahlia's shoulder, missing by millimetres.

Closer.

A sword at her breast. Too close. Dahlia plunged, and all that they knew was pain. Mia gasped, groaning for breath, looking down at the crippling wound. The ship seemed to just grind to a halt, the battle stopping for that split second when the crew of the HMS Justice watched their Captain fall to the deck. Dahlia laughed, before pulling the blade from the wound and kicking Mia sharply. And as the Captain's body went limp, eyes glazing over, a cry went up, Mia's body soaring into the sea as Dahlia heaved her over the railings, a cry went up, one that said this wasn't over.


End file.
